


Long there in vigil I stood

by Regann



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Feels, Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene, Slash, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While everyone waits for Jim to recover from the damage of Khan's actions, Spock has nothing but time on his hands to think about how much he has come to care about his captain and what exactly that means, for himself and for the grand friendship they were supposed to have.  [Missing Scene / Feels / Spoilers for the end of STID.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long there in vigil I stood

Spock was acutely aware of another's presence as they entered the room, even as Spock refused to let his gaze waver from his current point of contemplation.

"You don't have to hang around," Dr. McCoy said, finally coming into Spock's line of vision as he moved to the other side of Kirk's biobed. Spock barely spared the doctor a glance as McCoy continued, carefully checking the readings of the medical equipment that reminded them both that their captain was unbelievably, incredibly alive. "If there's any change, any sign he's gaining consciousness, I'll comm you."

Spock took in Kirk's unnaturally still face, unmarred by the wounds he'd suffered, every centimeter of skin painstakingly repaired by McCoy in the first two days of Kirk's coma. "I choose to remain."

McCoy snorted, a familiar if perplexing sound. It was enough to draw a quick glance away from his contemplation of the Captain. Spock's eyebrow rose in response.

The doctor shook his head, still with that strange mix of sadness and amusement on his face. "There's no reason for you to stay here, Spock. You could do with some shut-eye yourself and there's nothing you can do here."

Spock silently disagreed. Remaining at Kirk's bedside offered a constant reminder that Kirk was, indeed, alive; illogically, Spock found that he needed that reminder. "Vulcans require less rest than humans."

"But they do require _some_ ," McCoy said with smugness. "And I'm betting you're behind."

Perhaps he could've explained his reasons for staying, but Spock had no desire to share them with McCoy. "If my presence makes you uncomfortable, you are welcome to retire," Spock told him.

"I'm his doctor," McCoy said.

"There are other doctors," Spock said.

"He's also my friend," McCoy said, his voice rising a little with what seemed to be anger. Color rose in his face to match the change in his voice. "I'm not leaving."

"Nor am I," Spock said. He looked away from the doctor, back to Kirk's pale face. He considered the matter closed -- until he felt the lightest touch of fingers against his shoulder. McCoy's eyes were intense but softer than they had been a moment before. 

"It's damn illogical, you know," he said, stressing the word _illogical_. "But I won't make you leave if you don't want to."

Spock answered with nothing more than a slight nod, eyes trailing back to Kirk. His PADD waited nearby but he hadn't looked at it since he'd taken up his vigil 1.5 days before, as soon as he had been released from his vital duties to Starfleet. Once they had been discharged, he had come to the Academy hospital facility where McCoy had brought Kirk for the transfusion they had hoped would restore his life. And he did seem to be living, breathing, heart beating; but now was the wait to see if the brain activity the monitors reported would extend to waking consciousness. Spock did not see where his actions were illogical; he had no pressing duties to attend to, so he could remain where he wanted.

And where he wanted to be was at his captain's side.

The doctor finally left, leaving Spock to his vigil in silence, save for the quiet click and whir of the medical equipment that monitored Kirk. Spock had not admitted it but he could feel the encroaching need for meditation coming over him, as he had been unsuccessful in it for more than a handful of minutes since his capture of Khan, and there had been little time for rest in the days just before, either. But every time he almost reached an acceptable level of meditation, he found something waiting there to stop him -- the blinding rage he still felt when he thought of Khan, the dark satisfaction he'd felt every time his blows had impacted his face. There were also the memories of his captain that caused sorrow to choke him, the pain in Jim's eyes as he'd looked up at Spock, the tremble in his voice as he'd admitted his fears. Spock had yet to find a way to subdue those emotions into their proper places, beneath the cool logic his people prized, at least not through meditation. Sitting as he was at Kirk's side -- helped. Where meditation and logic could not, it kept the flood of those unwanted emotions at bay and let Spock hold on to the threads of his control. He knew it was illusory but it was enough for the moment. Knowing Jim was alive was enough for the moment.

So Spock sat in silence, content to watch the endlessly fascinating rise and fall of his captain's steady breath.

**

It only took 18.4 hours for Dr. McCoy to retract his promise to allow Spock to remain at Kirk's side.

"Damn it, man, this is getting ridiculous," he said when he found Spock in the same position as the day before. "You need to take a break or something. Eat, stretch your legs. I'm still betting sleep wouldn't hurt you."

"I am fine," Spock told him.

McCoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Spock, you need to clear out at least for a little while. To use an old Earth expression that's Jim's pretty familiar with -- _you don't have to go home but you can't stay here_. Although I'm still of the medical opinion that your apartment is where you need to be. _Resting_."

Spock was poised to refute the doctor's statement but Nyota's arrival forestalled his words. "What's wrong?" she asked as she stepped into the room, her expression clearly worried as she looked between them. "Is something wrong with the Captain?"

"No," McCoy said. "What's wrong is your boyfriend here thinks that I need another patient on my hands when I have enough to worry about with Jim. He's been here for three days straight as far as I can tell."

Spock had always admired how luminous Nyota's dark eyes could be in the right light, how expressive of her thoughts they could be. He could see some emotion in them now, but it was too complicated for him to draw the appropriate conclusion based on them alone, even if the overwhelming impression was one of sadness. "Spock," she said and he recognized the tenderness in her voice, the way she spoke to him as if he were a skittish animal. He remembered that tone well from the days after Vulcan had been destroyed. "I think McCoy's right. How about we head back to your place, just for a while? Jim wouldn't want you to sit here and neglect yourself."

He was not certain if it was the mention of Jim's wishes or Nyota's steadfast gaze but Spock found himself rising to his feet. "Very well," he agreed, not missing the look of utter gratitude the doctor threw toward Nyota. "At least a few hours," McCoy said as they exited the room. "Eat, sleep. Take a damn shower!"

Spock's rooms on the campus were close to the hospital facility, so the walk there only took them four minutes. As soon as they arrived, Nyota instructed him to see to his toiletries as McCoy had suggested -- "Doctor's orders," she'd said -- while she saw to a meal. When Spock emerged from his bedroom after doing as he was told, Nyota had already replicated bowls of soup for both of them. Spock thanked her and began to eat in silence, tasting every little of what he spooned into his mouth. Nyota was silent as well.

Even though it had been less than an hour since he had left the hospital facility, Spock was all too ready to return; however, he couldn't deny that he did feel more calm now that his physical needs had been met, so he ceded to the doctor's wisdom, if only to himself.

Nyota set her spoon in her bowl with a kind of finality that meant Spock was not surprised when she started to speak. "I feel like we need to talk," she said. "I also feel like the timing is...less than ideal."

"Since the doctor has asked that I vacate the Captain's room for at least a few hours, I am unoccupied at this time," Spock told her. "We may talk."

"I meant the right time _emotionally_ ," she said with a sigh. "But I don't think we should put it off either."

Spock considered the idea that his own compromised emotions had led him to being remiss when it came to Nyota's; he realized with regret that he had not spoken to her privately since Khan's capture. His mind had been elsewhere ever since -- mainly, on his captain. "Nyota, I am here if you have emotional thoughts you need to share. I understand that such sharing often helps humans in times such as these."

"Maybe even half-humans, too?" she said with a twist of her mouth that suggested a dim kind of amusement. But the smile faded quickly. "Did you notice what McCoy called you?"

McCoy often called Spock many things, especially in a tone he seemed to think Spock could not hear, despite his acute hearing. Still, Spock knew to what Nyota referred. "You mean, when we referred to our romantic relationship?"

She nodded. "But I'm thinking...that's not really true anymore, is it? That we have a romantic relationship. At least not the kind I want."

"Nyota," he began, although he wasn't precisely certain what he wanted to say.

"We care about each other," she continued. "I would be...devastated if you died. I'd like to think the reverse is true, as well." She looked away for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts. "But I don't think it would be the kind of devastation I saw when you realized that Kirk..."

The last word remained unspoken, hanging heavily in the air between them. It did not make sense but Spock was relieved that Nyota did not say it aloud, even though the small reminder of what had happened was enough to bring a prickle of unwanted emotion back to the forefront of Spock's mind, when it had only barely left. As much as he didn't want to admit it, had tried to ignore it, Spock accepted the truth of Nyota's words. He had felt loss more than once in his life but nothing had prepared him for what could overtake him as he'd watched his Captain, his friend, his -- _Jim_ die before his eyes, even denied the small comfort of a touch. Not even the loss of his mother had prepared him for the consuming anger, the pain, the hollowness that had burrowed into him as his rapid mind had acknowledged everything he would be bereft of if there was no Jim Kirk in his life. No more smiles and exasperation; no more warmth from his consideration; no more of the rightness he felt working with him, that made him believe in his older, alternate self's words of a great friendship. Almost everything that made his life on the Enterprise worthwhile would've have gone if Jim were.

It had been...enlightening.

It had been _crushing_.

For many months, Spock had not known how to categorize what he felt for his Captain. It hadn't been any kind of attachment he was familiar with, different from the way he had related to other colleagues, other friends, even Nyota or T'Pring. It had remained indefinable, a variable that fit none of the parameters he understood. It was only as he had watched him die that Spock had realized it had been because it had transcended all those parameters.

"Nyota," Spock began, his voice rough for no reason he could discern. "I have been unfair to you. I...apologize." He paused. "But you are correct."

There was no surprise on her face, only a kind of acceptance that bloomed deep in her eyes -- sadness without censure, as if she had expected nothing different. "I know," she said. "I tried to ignore it for a while but I could see. Where this was going. Especially when..." She stopped herself. "Not my story to tell," she continued. She reached across the small table and offered him the comfort of touch but it was only her fingers against the fabric of his robe, pointedly avoiding skin-to-skin contact. "We...I'm still your friend, Spock. Should you need one."

"I am very much in need of one," he told her. "Thank you."

"Then, as your friend, I have some advice," she said. "Be honest about how you feel. With yourself and with _him_ , okay?"

He opened his mouth to protest all the reasons that her suggestion held little merit when she raised a hand to stop the words before they began. "Just think about it," she said.

"If you wish," he told her.

"I do," she said. She cleared her throat, her attention suddenly consumed by the drape of her uniform over her body as she rose to her feet. "I'm going to get going," Nyota said. "McCoy wanted you to get some rest, too." She touched a hand to his shoulder as she passed. "Let me know if you need anything."

A part of Spock -- probably the human part -- told him he shouldn't question Nyota's generosity in the face of his betrayal, however unintended, of their relationship. But another part found him saying, "Although I am pleased you wish to remain friends, I thought..." She turned back to look at him. "I would have expected anger in such a situation as this."

"Me, too," Nyota said, that bitter twist of her mouth returning. "But there's something we say here on Earth -- you can't help who you love."

Her parting words lingered in his mind long after she had left.

**

To avoid any further interference from Dr. McCoy, Spock made a more concerted effort to prioritize his physical needs with the emotional one that kept him at Jim's side. After his conversation with Nyota, he had been able to meditate a few hours before he returned to the medical facility and the doctor had let him sit there until 23:00 when McCoy himself left. Each day for the remainder of that week, he kept to a schedule that included meal breaks and resting time so that not even Dr. McCoy could argue against the time he spent waiting on the Captain to regain consciousness.

"If you're going to sit around, you might as well do something useful," McCoy had said to him the afternoon after his conversation with Nyota. "Read to him or something, don't just sit around like a statue."

It was for that reason that Spock did take up his discarded PADD to do just that. He and Jim had talked about a great many things since they had come to serve together but choices in leisure reading had not been one of them. That fact left Spock at a loss as to what might be the most appropriate material. When he shared his thoughts with McCoy, the doctor rolled his eyes. "You could read him the teachings of Surak if it struck your fancy and I don't think it'd matter," he said. "I think -- I think it would just help if he heard your voice, Spock."

In the end, Spock decided that Surak, while worthy of a read, was not what the occasion called for and instead let his memory of the old-fashioned books that Jim hoarded on one of the shelves of his quarters be his guide. He chose old English-language Earth classics at random, barely paying attention to the words that he dutifully read aloud. It was soothing in its cadence, a kind of speaking meditation that allowed Spock to relax a little more. Jim continued to breathe even if he didn't open his eyes and Spock was content to spend his days thus engaged.

Jim had been unconsciousness for eight days following his transfusion when Spock returned from sharing a midday meal with Nyota, Sulu and Chekov to find someone else sitting in his chair by Jim's beside.

"Mr. Spock," the old Vulcan said.

"Mr. Spock," Spock said in reply. And, before he could stop himself, "May I ask what you're doing here?"

The elder Spock looked fondly toward the bed where Jim still lay unconscious. "My old friend is recovering from an extensive injury," he said. "Where else would I be?"

Spock knew it was illogical to be jealous of himself, particularly when the older, alternate version of him had spent little more than a handful of days in the company of Spock's James Kirk. The "old friend" to which the other Spock referred was a different one altogether. Nevertheless, something about the scene bothered him.

"I know that you do not consider Jim as your closest friend, but that is what he was to me in my time," the older Spock continued. "I felt it was only right to pay my respects. He did a very brave thing."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "He did."

The old Vulcan's face lost a little of its muted humor. "I will admit that I was left concerned in the wake of our conversation. Khan cost me a great deal in my own timeline, although it was much later in my life than it is now in yours."

"I know you've said that you don't wish to alter the course of my life with knowledge of your future, but I find myself curious as to how the confrontation with Khan went in your time." Spock swallowed against a treacherous swell of emotion. "Did your Kirk...?" He could not finish, but cast his eyes toward his captain's biobed.

"No," the other Spock said with a slow shake of his head. "It was I who died in saving my Enterprise."

"And yet you lived on."

"Because not even death could stop James T. Kirk," he answered. "No matter the universe."

"I'm not sure how it could be managed," Spock admitted. "With Khan's blood, as we did to save him?"

"No," the older one said. "The manner was very different. I had to undergo the fal tor pan to regain all that I had lost."

"That is..." Spock searched for the word. "Fascinating."

"Indeed," the old Vulcan said, his face soft and open in a way that made Spock uncomfortable, as if it were his own face that showed so much. "I am glad to see that you also have come to pay your respects to your captain." He picked up the PADD from which Spock had been reading before his meal. "And that others are as well. I see someone has been reading to him."

"McCoy said that he enjoyed reading," Spock said. "It was logical to pass the time in some kind of engaged manner."

"Of course," the old Spock agreed. "You may have a break from your duties, Commander. I would like to sit and read to Jim, if I may."

Spock wanted to say no, but there was no logical reason for it. That didn't stop him from frowning. "If you wish."

The Vulcan just inclined his head, acceptance and dismissal in one. He smiled just a little as his eyes took in the text. "Still fond of the classics, Jim?" he murmured, clearly words meant only for himself and the captain.

Spock didn't want to leave but he suddenly felt as if he were intruding, even though this was his universe and his captain. But with little idea of what to do otherwise, Spock returned the nod and left the room.

**

As much as Spock hated to admit it, he was gratified that he did not run into his alternate self when he returned to the medical facility the next morning to check on the Captain. As usual, McCoy was there as if he never left, dressed in the pristine whites of the medical staff. When he glanced up from Jim's chart as he heard Spock enter the room, there was a grin on the doctor's face that made something within Spock feel lighter.

"Has he awoken?" he asked, inexplicably hopeful even as he readied himself to admonish McCoy for not comming him as promised.

"No," McCoy said. "But the signs are looking really good that it won't be too long now. There are increased signs of brain activity and all his vitals are strong. I think we actually might've pulled off a damned miracle."

The last time he had heard someone praise a windfall as a miracle, Spock had then immediately learned that that so-called miracle had cost him in his captain's life. He chose not to comment. "I am glad to hear it."

"Isn't gladness an emotion?" McCoy teased as he often did, in a manner similar to and yet wildly different from the way the Captain did.

Spock, as he often did, ignored that sentiment as well. "I had planned to sit with the captain for a few hours," he said. "If you are amenable?"

"Be my guest," McCoy said with an exaggerated politeness that included a sweeping arm gesture and the lengthening of his vowels. "I've got work to do."

Glad to be left in peace once the doctor left him to it, Spock took his usual seat and recovered his PADD that his alternate self had been considerate enough to leave in the room after he had read to Jim from it. It looked as if he'd chosen a different book to read while he'd been at it -- the reader was marked somewhere in the middle of Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities, a book that Spock himself had not started. He wondered at the choice; was it a random one, since it fit the parameters Spock had used to find reading material or did it have some specific meaning to the other Spock and his Jim Kirk? Spock could not bring himself to ask so he knew he'd probably never know.

Spock continued in the novel from where his elder self had presumably ceased, once again letting the words wash over him like a mantra, his thoughts easily occupied with other matters. Those thoughts turned back to his alternate self, to the flare of jealousy he had felt at seeing the older Vulcan at Jim's side; reviewing the past several months, he could admit it wasn't the first time he'd felt so. Ever since he had decided to follow the Ambassador's advice and stay on the Enterprise, he had been envious of how easily the older Vulcan had been able to establish a rapport with the Captain, even separated by many light-years and dependent on subspace communication for their interactions. Logically, Spock knew it made sense that a half-Vulcan with decades of experience with _a_ James Kirk would have an advantage with _this_ Jim over one who had not, but Spock had found himself longing for the depth of friendship that the elder Spock had described. It was difficult to contemplate building it when there was already a Spock enjoying such a friendship with his Captain.

But even without the older Spock's presence, Spock had failed because he had realized that what he felt for his Captain went well beyond friendship. Friendship was a part of it, of course, but it was something much deeper, much more complex and, even though Spock would endeavor to be worthy of the friendship Jim had offered him, he would fail to ever be able to live up to the legendary proportions of their counterparts, not when Spock would have to keep much of his true feelings to himself.

For a moment, Spock felt something akin to shame for what he had deprived the Captain of with his illogical attachment and he felt inadequate given the hopes that his counterpart had placed on him. The bond that had existed in that other universe was now tainted, sullied by Spock's inability to control the maelstrom he often felt thrum in his gut when it came to James Kirk. 

A light knock on the door made Spock stop in his reading, glancing up to see the Enterprise's Chief Engineer standing in the door, looking very hesitant.

"Mr. Scott," Spock greeted him, laying aside his PADD. "You've come to see the Captain?"

"Aye," Mr. Scott said with a nod, hurrying into the room. "I've been in a few times before we hadn't managed to cross paths, Commander."

It was true. Spock knew from idle conversation at meals that he had shared with Nyota, Sulu and Chekov that Mr. Scott had come to see Jim as often as the others had, but it had always seemed to happen with Spock was away. He hadn't even considered the coincidence of that until the engineer had presented it to him. "Would you prefer to visit in solitude?"

"No, no, stay where you are, sir," Mr. Scott said. He came over to Jim's side and frowned down at him. "Any change?"

"Dr. McCoy had a positive report when he checked the Captain's test results this morning," Spock said. 

He watched the engineer's shoulders relax. "'Tis grand news, then," he said. "And I'm doubly glad you were here to ask instead of the Doctor."

"Why is that?" 

Mr. Scott glanced away from the Captain's quiet face, looking over his shoulder as if he expected the doctor to appear at any moment. "He's a bit perturbed with me, that's all." He grimaced. "He's taken offence that I called for you and not him when Jim..." As almost all of them had done, Mr. Scott let his voice trail away instead of plainly restating the tragedy they had barely escaped. 

Yet another detail, Spock realized, that he had not questioned in all the days since when, logically, Dr. McCoy would have been the most appropriate person to call. Not only because he was a medical professional but also because he was Jim's closest friend aboard the Enterprise. And yet Mr. Scott had only called for _him_. 

"And why did you?" Spock asked, uncertain as to why he had decided it mattered. 

Mr. Scott looked especially nervous at the question and Spock was about to dismiss his curiosity when Scott finally spoke. "Because I knew you were the one he'd have wanted there."

"But McCoy..."

"You know, Jim and me, we're...he's a good lad," Mr. Scott said, sounding more like McCoy than he probably realized. "He's right of fond of you, you know."

Spock knew that Mr. Scott had a human's capacity for the non sequitur but the man's statements made very little sense. 

Mr. Scott gave the Captain's cloth-covered knee a friendly pat before he stepped away from the biobed. "I'll be on my way, then. Take good care of him, eh, Commander?"

"I will do what I can," Spock answered. 

Scott grinned a little. "It'll be enough, I'm sure," he said. "I'll be seeing you, sir."

It wasn't until the engineer's footsteps faded that Spock realized that for he had said, Mr. Scott had not truly answer his question about why he had called him instead of McCoy to be at Jim's side. 

**

His thoughts were still troubled by their earlier turn when Spock took his evening break from Jim's bedside. He knew he was expected in the cafeteria where most of the crew was taking their meals communally but Spock could not will himself to join them. Instead he found a quiet bench on a secluded lawn of the campus, seeking peaceful solitude that he hoped would eventually extend to his mind.

"Jim always liked this area," the older Spock said as he slowly approached his younger self. The old Vulcan looked around, his robes rustling against the grass. "Especially in his older years. He found it to be...quite the hiding place."

Spock recognized that his older self was making a comparison -- that Spock was using it as a place of avoidance as the other James Kirk once had. "You insist you will not tell me of the possible future that we might have and yet you reference it constantly."

The other Spock produced a short, soft snort that passed for laughter from a Vulcan. "I do not think that knowing that my Jim liked to sulk, as the Doctor called it, on this particular bench could be construed as a danger."

"But there are things I could presume from the information," Spock said, watching his counterpart's face. "That your Kirk spent enough time at Starfleet as an older man that he could have a preferred spot -- teaching perhaps? Or more likely, a promotion, a position at headquarters and off of the Enterprise."

"Did you ever really doubt that any James Kirk would fail to attain the highest honors available to him?" the other Spock asked.

Spock bowed his head, accepting the point. "If he lives long enough," he said.

"He will," the old Vulcan said. "Dr. McCoy is sure of that." His counterpart took a step closer to him. "Do you doubt this? Is that the reason that you are troubled?"

"No," Spock said, knowing that denial of the accusation would do him no good. He was visibly troubled. "You persuaded me to remain on the Enterprise with Captain Kirk. Because of the friendship you had had with your counterpart."

"Yes," he said. "I wanted you to have what I had."

"But we cannot," Spock said. "We are not you and your Kirk."

"That is true," his counterpart said. "But you can have something like it. If you give him the chance, Jim Kirk will define you as no one else can."

"It is impossible," Spock said. He realized that he had curled his hands into fists even where they lay against his sides. 

For the first time, the old Vulcan frowned, as if finally convinced of his younger self's turmoil. "Why?"

"I do not feel friendship for my Captain," he said.

"And yet you sit by his bedside and wait for him to awake," his older self said. "You chased down the man who caused his death, allowing McCoy to save him with Khan's blood."

"Correct."

"Would you have me believe that mere duty leads you to this?" he asked.

"It is not duty," Spock agreed. "But it is not friendship either."

"Your statement is illogical, Spock," the older one told him. "Clarify."

Spock was not certain that it was wise or necessary to do as his alternate self bid but when he looked up into the Vulcan's dark, ancient eyes, he could see there was compassion in their depths, a kindness that reminded Spock not of his own eyes but of his mother's and the way she had often looked at him. It made it easier for Spock to speak of the turmoil that had dogged him. "I must start by begging your forgiveness, Elder," Spock said. "I knew of your hopes that I could forge the same friendship with my Captain as you had with yours but I failed."

"I remain unsure of why you have drawn this conclusion," the elder said. "I hope for a fact that Jim considers you his -- friend."

"He tried to express that to me several times," Spock admitted, trying not to remember the agonized voice of his captain the last time he had tried to tell him. "But what I feel for him...it is not friendship."

"But you do feel for him?" the old Vulcan asked, kindness in his voice.

Spock nodded. "But not friendship."

The old Vulcan let out a great rattling sigh. When he spoke, his voice was filled with soft emotion. "May I sit, young one?"

Spock moved on the bench to accommodate the old being, until they sat as close as only family would be allowed. Spock felt gnarled, aged fingers brush against his clenched hand. "Ah," the elder said. "You feel as if you have betrayed both me and your Captain because your feeling goes beyond what you believe it should."

"There is no logic in stating things you already know," Spock said, shame bringing a bite to his voice.

"I have tried to find a balance," his counterpart said, ignoring Spock's tone. "Between what I think you need and what I think you must discover on your own. When it came to Jim Kirk, I knew that there was nothing you would need more than him at your side." His eyes stared off into the distance, lost somewhere in another reality, Spock surmised. "But you are not me and I...did not want to upset the other connections you had made. I did not want you to resent Jim before you knew him because of knowledge I gave you."

"I do not understand."

"I suppose you don't," the old one mused. "But I will speak more plainly. When I spoke of friendship between me and my captain, I did not speak merely of human concepts of the term. Nor even Vulcan. I spoke of a deeper, more ancient bond."

The words were delivered evenly but Spock knew his own voice enough to know where the emphasis lay. "Bond?"

The old Vulcan bowed his head, an affirmation.

Spock felt his heart pound against his side at the realization that his counterpart had not simply wanted he and Jim to be friends -- he had been _match-making_. Somehow, the other Jim and Spock had been bonded, mated to each other until -- Spock could see the sadness in the elder's face. Until death, it seemed. It was a burden lifted that Spock's own depth of devotion to his Jim was not a disservice to his elder's feelings but it did not change other facts of reality. "Jim thinks of me as a friend," he pointed out.

The other Spock allowed his mouth to twitch up. "We are not the only ones who know of these deeper, more ancient meanings of the word," he said. "Perhaps he speaks of these as well."

Spock could hear Jim's voice, ragged with his dying breaths -- _I have to tell you why I came back for you, why I couldn't let you die_ \-- and he felt illogical hope stir in him. "Perhaps," was all he could manage to reply without the risk of an emotional tremble in his voice.

"You should speak to him when he is awake," the elder continued. "Which Dr. McCoy assures me should happen sooner than later." 

"Nyota said something similar," Spock said. "When she and I -- when she terminated our romantic connection."

"She is a wise woman, in all universes," the old Vulcan said. Spock felt the gnarled fingers touch his hand again. "I will take my leave now if your concerns are assuaged."

"They are," he said. "I thank you for your assistance."

"Thanks are illogical," the older one said with gentle humor. "Good luck, Mr. Spock."

The old Vulcan had taken only a step or two away from the bench when Spock spoke again. "I grieve with thee, elder," he said. "For the loss of your _friend_."

"I hope with thee, young one," his counterpart said. "For the health and happiness of yours."

**

His alternate self's report of Dr. McCoy’s prognosis was correct and the doctor was jubilant as the Captain's signs improved. Spock might've been made uncomfortable by the blatant display of emotions from McCoy if he hadn't shared them so strongly. The Captain _would_ wake up soon.

Spock spent less time at his side, not because he wished to but because Starfleet once again began to make demands on his time, a resumption of his duties both as a member of Starfleet and as the Enterprise's acting captain. The ship would be rebuilt but it would take something close to a year -- human engineers were imprecise, even Mr. Scott. Still, Spock visited as much as he could, in between briefings and meetings and paperwork to be filed.

"I thought I might actually go a day without seeing you," the doctor said one afternoon, when it was the first chance Spock had had to check in on Jim all day. "No such luck, I see."

"I do not come to see you," Spock told him. "I come to check on the Captain."

"I've noticed," the doctor said, moving around as he attended to his duties.

Spock was unsure of why the doctor seemed both grateful and hostile to his visits to the captain and he wondered if his attitude was connected to the ire he felt toward Mr. Scott's decision to call for Spock instead of McCoy in Jim's last moments. It was not logical to blame Spock for Mr. Scott's actions, no matter how grateful Spock was for them. 

He spent several moments staring down at Jim's face, hope burning inside of him. He took in every minute detail of improvement that could be gleaned from eye sight, noting the improved color, the rounded healthiness of his face. Soon, _soon_ , he would be awake and truly on the mend.

"Any change in prognosis?" Spock asked.

"Still betting on him awaking up in the next 36 to 48 hours," the doctor said.

"And you will comm me if I am not here?" 

The doctor sighed. "Yes, Spock, I will. I don't think Jim would forgive me if I didn't."

Spock turned from his captain and focused on McCoy. "You believe that Jim wishes me here."

"Yeah?" McCoy answered.

"And you think my presence was beneficial for him."

"Your point?" McCoy asked.

"Yet you continually express your hostility at my presence." Spock folded his hands behind his back. "Even you must see the illogic of your actions."

"I never said I was a believer in logic, Spock," McCoy said with a sigh. "Especially when it comes to Jim. Humans are often conflicted when it comes to certain kinds of matters." 

"What is the nature of your conflict?" Spock wanted to know.

"Jim wants -- I've watched him work his ass off trying to be your friend since he took over that bucket of bolts," McCoy began. "And I've watched you react in the same way a computer would -- cold, logical, unemotional. Like you couldn't give a damn one way or the other." McCoy's eyes flashed. "And then _this_ happened and you lose your damned mind and near beat Khan to death and then sit as his bedside and hold his hand and I --" McCoy trailed off. "I can't help but wonder if you're not just having some kind of Vulcan emotional crisis and that all of this _concern_ is going to evaporate once he opens his eyes."

Spock could see the fierceness of McCoy's devotion to the captain in the anger that clearly took hold of him, the frown and hardened eyes, the tension in his body. He could perhaps even understand the human's reaction, given his own desire to protect the Captain from harm; he had just never realized that he himself might be something that could be construed as an emotional harm to Jim. "There is no crisis, Doctor," he finally said. "Not when it comes to the Captain. You are correct that this has brought perspective but I am resolved."

"Are you?" McCoy asked, eyes narrowing.

"Affirmative," he said. "I will not desert my captain, in any way."

"See that you don't," McCoy told him. "Because if I find out you're messin' with his feelings, no Vulcan logic or strength or nerve pinch is gonna save you from me, you hear?"

"I 'hear,' Doctor," Spock said. "Better than humans, in fact."

The doctor held his gaze for a long time, an unnerving battle of wills. But then McCoy's face softened, as it often did when he looked or thought of Jim. "Go to your meetings, Spock," he said. "I'm comm as soon as Jim twitches."

Although the doctor had already promised to do so, Spock knew that this time he meant it.

**

Just as McCoy had speculated, Jim woke up within the twenty-four hours of their last conversation and Spock was in a meeting with several admirals. And just as he had promised, McCoy commed him and, without a thought to how they might've felt about it, Spock excused himself from the admirals' conference and all but raced to the medical facility. He arrived just in time to see Jim's eyes slide open, to hear his roughened voice joke with the doctor about his megalomaniacal tendencies.

And he was there to be favored with Jim's smile and gratitude.

Spock was still staring down at Jim, still simply enjoying the sight of him alive and awake and smiling when he realized that McCoy had left them alone. He wasn't certain if he was grateful or apprehensive. 

He noticed that Jim was squinting at him. "You're all dressed up," he noted, taking in Spock's uniform. "You got some place to be?"

"No, Jim," he said. "I have nowhere to be but here."

Jim's smile widened and Spock almost felt his own mouth respond, knowing he had spoken the absolute truth. There was nowhere in the universe where Spock needed to be more than he needed to be at his captain's side.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything for this fandom since I wrote some gift-fics a few years ago, but STID (despite its problems) gave me all the Spock/Kirk feels. 
> 
> Title is a slightly tweaked line from Walt Whitman's "Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field." There is a sort-of companion piece to this that I am currently editing from everyone else's POV.


End file.
